Heir To The Weasley Throne
by angel-death-dealer
Summary: She should have prepared herself for this. But it all came screaming back to her. Years into the future, Professor McGonagall sees a familiar name on the list of this years new students. My 200th fanfic!


**This is a very special story for me to be publishing today - _my 200th published fanfiction on this site_. I'm so excited about posting it, so I thought I'd try something new. This is my second story for the Harry Potter fandom, but it has been the longest fandom I've followed. I usually stick to romance and shipping, but once this idea came to me as a drabble it kind of grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!****  
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**Heir To The Weasley Throne**

'_Cause I've been watching you, Dad, ain't that cool?_

_I'm your Buckaroo, I want to be like you_

_And eat all my food and grow as tall as you are._

_By then I'll be strong as superman_

_We'll be just alike, hey, won't we, Dad?_

_When I can do everything you do_

'_Cause I've been watching you._

_-Rodney Atkins – Watching You_

At first, it was just a simple glance down the list. Minerva McGonagall was serving her last year as Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it was closing on the end of July. The school year would commence on the first of September, and the new students would need their letters owled to them on July the thirty-first. She had reviewed this list many times, first with Albus Dumbledore, and later alone. It was a task she enjoyed, particularly since the War. It was comforting to see the surnames of families that she remembered as students during the war, assured in the knowledge that they had not only fought for the future, but also created it with the families they had made for themselves.

It had begun with the names of those she knew had been orphaned by the war, in particular, Teddy Lupin. She remembered meeting the small boy with what was, at the time, a patch of green fuzz on the top of his head. She remembered how he had constantly crawled away from his grandmother's feet during the post-War celebration at the Weasley house she had first met him at, content at his own personal game of following Harry Potter around. There were at least three moments where everyone at the gathering needed to stop what they were doing and try and find the infant, and every time he was found within ten feet of Harry. Then, all of a sudden, Teddy Lupin was eleven years old and attending his first year of Hogwarts. From the moment he stepped off the train, surrounded by the children who had been born in the year of the War, he had started to remind her of her age. To have such old memories of his parents, it made her feel frail to think that their son was now at the school his father once taught at.

Victoire Weasley was the first name to follow him that had sprung up a chord with Minerva. The name Weasley would always belong at Hogwarts and it had been almost twelve years since a Weasley had resided in Gryffindor Tower when the stunningly beautiful half-Veela Weasley had looked up at the castle with awe. She no doubt inherited most of her looks from her mother, besides the trademark red hair. She escaped the freckles, instead having the smooth skin that most girls her age would start to lose as they started maturing into young women, but this girl would no doubt remain as beautiful as she was now until she day she found her age creeping up with her. She even coped remarkably well when there were a few bullying jibes from some Hufflepuff boys about a Weasley having slept in every bed in Gryffindor. When the case was brought to the attention of one of the Professors, they'd rather amusingly told her that this was only the case in the boys dormitories, as the only Weasley to have slept in the girls dormitory was Ginny Weasley.

Following her was her younger sister, Dominique. Were it not for the height, she'd have imagined the two girls to be twins. They were so alike in their mannerisms and expressions that she wondered sometimes whether there was mostly Delacour in the girls, and very little Weasley, but there was a sense of family that she had never encountered except with the Weasley's before, and it was there with the two girls. Dominique was fiercely overlooked by her elder sister, but continued to shine despite Victoire's shadow. She was the object of the eye of almost every boy in her year, but again, like her sister, never used that power to any advantage. The girls were quiet, pleasant and kind.

Louis followed immediately the year after, his elder sisters clearly taking all the Veela inheritance there was to offer, leaving their younger brother with little resemblance to his mother and completely identical to his father, Bill Weasley. It was almost nostalgic to see the boy bent over his studies much in the way she had observed when his father had been a student. He didn't achieve the greatest grades, but his effort was astounding. He seemed to care little for the offhand comments of his classmates about how much time he spent with his head in a book, concentrating instead on the friends who were loyal to him. It was lucky that the boy did have friends who were capable of distracting his attention away from the written word, else she feared he would one day be found with his face merged into the paper he was writing on.

The same year as Louis was James. James Sirius Potter, the eldest son of The Boy Who Lived. James Potter was everything that his father had been – slightly unsure in the shadow of the castle, but within one term he was known to the school – if not for his father's legacy, but for his Quidditch skills. True, he did not have his mother's attitude to work and studies, but the intelligence was there. He knew his core values, every part of his mind, body and spirit proving him to be his father and grandfather's. She often wondered whether there was anything about the child that was of his own, but she knew without him saying that he was begging to shine underneath the family name in his own way. James Potter would never be known for the Quidditch or the legends, he would leave that to his father and grandfather, but he wished to be known for other great things. She had no doubt that he would meet those and as the years progressed, he did not disappoint. He, at least, avoided the troublesome moments that his father had been mysteriously drawn to.

For two years, the names on the list were diminished to those of families where she did not recognise the names of both parents. Ever year she would scour the list, write the letters, sign and seal them, and deliver them to the owlery in person. Every year, she would smile at the names of the parents besides the name of the child that was due to arrive in Hogwarts that September. Some would make her laugh at the idea of the two parents actually having a relationship together, and some would make her curious as to how it occurred, particularly when she knew of no contact between them at school. Still, the War bought people together in ways that no one had seen for seventeen years previously, particularly in the young people who fought together – many of them knowing nothing of war, losing family, friends, and yet continuing to fight.

The next year, many familiar names appeared on the list, none more famous than the other in her mind. A new Potter arrived in the form of Albus Severus Potter, his names more famous than himself. James easily absorbed the glory of being the firstborn son of Harry Potter, so it was much easier to see who Albus was beneath that. Albus was much more like his mother – studious, quiet, and he kept his head down as much as possible – much like Ginny Weasley had for half of her first year until the incident with the Chamber of Secrets. He looked much like James, obviously both boys taking their father's side to inherit from, but Ginny's eyes were definitely there with him. Sometimes, when she caught his eye, she expected his dark hair to instantly extend past his shoulders and turn that furious Weasley red that she knew was within him. On his first term of his first year, and every year after that, he would arrive at the school doors with freckles on his cheeks, but within weeks away from the constant sunshine of Godric's Hollow, they had faded back into his pale cheeks.

Rose Weasley also arrived at Hogwarts that year, the eldest child and only daughter of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Minerva had laughed to herself when she first heard of these two becoming engaged to one another, and had shared a secret smile with herself on their wedding day as she was reminded of the constant bickering of their school days. Despite that, they had birthed a wonderful daughter who was the image of her mother save the red Weasley hair. It was even bushy like her mother's! And more wonderfully for Hogwarts, Rose had her mother's attitude to school work and quickly excelled to the top of all her classes without care. It was almost as if she were a better student that her mother, which she'd thought would be impossible. Perhaps that was because Rose Weasley had inherited her father's laid back attitude to some extent so she didn't get nervous to the dramatic extend that Hermione used to.

The twins, Lorcan and Lysander followed them, both as blonde and dreamy-eyed as their mother Luna Lovegood. The two of them almost seemed to communicate in their own language, keeping to themselves the majority of the time, though she supposed that this was more than likely down to the stories they heard from their mother. She couldn't count the times that the two would end up in detention for attempting to correct their Professors one time too many!

Accompanying them the same year was Scorpius Malfoy, a name she had dreaded a little when she paused at it on the list. All young witches and wizards received the same chance and the same schooling at Hogwarts, regardless of their blood status. It was something that they stood by, especially after the war, but Draco had caused some great evil during his school days, though by no means on his own or under his own knowledge. It quickly became clear, though, that Scorpius may have been visibly like his father, was nothing like him in character. He was much quieter, and yet not so secretive about the schoolboy crush he formed on Rose Weasley.

Hugo Weasley and Lily Potter arrived together in the same year. Hugo was a duplicate of his father, the youngest son, freckled, red hair and with a furious blush the second any attention fell on him. He was desperate to catch up with his sister Rose, and from what Minerva heard he would spend most of his time in the Gryffindor common room tugging on his sister's sleeve and repeating "Rosie, Rosie, do you think...?" a thousand times an evening. Luckily Rose didn't seem to mind her inquisitive brother, whether he was asking her whether she thought it was possible that his owl home had gotten lost because it was dark out or whether he could have help with his Potions essay.

Lily Potter was every bit the image of her mother. Green eyes, red hair, a radiantly sweet smile...the only Potter in her was the gleam in her eyes when she was caught getting into mischief. Together with Hugo, the pair of them were quite the double act. She may not have been a Weasley by name, but the blood ran deep within her and surfaced a few inopportune moments, usually in the form of her conscience telling her not to do something ten seconds after she had, in fact, already done it. But with two elder brothers and the family name behind her, she managed to bat her eyelids out of trouble every time.

And after that followed the two daughters of Percy and Audrey Weasley, twins Molly and Lucy. She could almost imaging the heartfelt warmth that Molly felt upon hearing that one of her granddaughters was named after her, particularly from her once-estranged son. She was pleased to hear that Percy had come to his senses during the War and returned to his family, and the death of his brother had bought the family together immensely. But Percy was a wonderful father to his girls, who were both raised respectfully and politely.

But then the name appeared.

That name.

The name that chilled her spine and sent her shuddering at the mere combination of letter.

Child attending: Fred Weasley (II)  
>Parents: George Weasley (PB) &amp; Angelina Weasley nee. Johnson (MB)<p>

Fred Weasley.

_Another_ Fred Weasley.

She knew that George Weasley was distraught over the loss of his brother, and that Fred's spirit would always live on in the surviving George. She should have known that he would have named his first son after the brother he lost. She should have known that this day would come.

She should have prepared herself for this.

But it all came screaming back to her.

The pranks. The endless pranks followed by the simultaneous laughter that was never distended however severe the punishment. True, the Fred and George were not the first twins to cross the Hogwarts threshold, nor would they be the last, but they would always be most iconic. Filch had continued to rope off the small portion of the swamp they created upon their final evening as students of the school. It was rare that a student didn't complete their seventh school year, disregarding the year of the War, but for the first time she didn't fear for the future of the twins. She knew that they would find some way of leaning on each other to succeed, and she had to admit that the joke shop had thrived among the students.

She knew that George still ran the joke shop with help from his younger brother Ron, who had trained as an Auror but found that his family was a greater priority for himself once his second child had been born. He wasn't fond of the endless trips around the country and the world when working for the Ministry of Magic, and he certainly wasn't pleased about spending so much time away from his family. She had a brief conversation with Arthur Weasley upon her visit to the Ministry not long after the decision had been made, and he told her about how Hugo being born had proved to Ron how much he had missed of Rose's childhood. He had resigned the following day and started to work with his brother not long after Hugo had come home.

It was becoming more of a Weasley family store as opposed to just the twins. They had got the shop in Hogsmede to accompany the home store in Diagon Alley, and that had only improved business. She'd overheard Neville Longbottom talking in the Professor's Lounge about how they were considering opening stores abroad, particularly near to the schools. It was something to do with James Potter and Louis Weasley sending some of the products by owl to Fleur's sister in France, and she had in turn shown them to her friends. For a while the boys had attempted to run their own side business off the back of George, but once their uncle discovered this he'd rumbled them, giving them a serious off-the-book "talking to" before announcing that it was a wonderful idea and asking them how many schools they could send samples to without it looking like an irresponsible sales pitch on his part.

But another Fred Weasley in Hogwarts...

Her wand shook slightly in her hands. If the original Fred had caused such 'playful' havoc in the school with just their own minds, what would a second Fred do with all the stories his father had told him as well as his own devices?

Perhaps she was just being foolish. After all, Angelina was the boys mother. She had been a very grounded, studious girl. She had a level head on her, very strong willed and sensible. A wonderful Gryffindor and a pleasure to teach. Perhaps young Fred would take after his mother. Perhaps he would arrive at the doors with the same sleek black hair as his mother. Perhaps he would work hard, hand in his homework on time, just like his mother. Perhaps he would find his Quidditch vocation in being a Chaser, not a Beater. Perhaps he would be calm, and settled, and quiet...

And perhaps she would be wrong.

She kept her wand hovered over the name, and before using the familiar flick to start the letter writing, she stood from the desk and left the Headmistress' Office. The list was in her hand, accompanying her on her journey down to the Greenhouses. It seemed an odd thing to do for a Headmistress who managed to teach even the most unstudious child, but this required special attention, she felt. In the Greenhouses, she found Professor Longbottom hunched over some baby Mandrakes. She knew that he was a little anxious about showing these to the newest second years, as he had not had the best experience with his first meeting with the plants, but he still displayed a steady hand. He signalled for her to be silent when she approached and left the plants to go to her in the doorway.

"Professor, I didn't expect to see you here today."

"Neville," she sighed. "I have not been your Professor for quite some time."

He shrugged. "It still feels like it sometimes."

"I had come to request some assistance," she told him. "I believe you were at the Burrow sometime over the summer?"

"Percy's fortieth," he confirmed.

"Did you happen to meet George and Angelina's son?"

"Oh, Fred!" he nodded. "Yeah, met him a couple of times now. Him and Roxanne. They had a daughter two years after."

"How nice," she smiled. "I don't suppose you could put an old lady's mind at rest by assuring me that Fred is absolutely nothing like his father or late uncle?" she asked.

It was the hesitation in Neville's shaky answer that caused the greatest doubt. The way his eyes darted to the Mandrakes in the corner as if their screaming could provide him with a way to avoid answering honestly. He seemed to struggle for quite a few minutes before settling on: "He _is_ a great kid, really."

"Mr Longbottom, those words have been said many a time about the twins."

"He means well," Neville told her. "He just...heard a lot of stories about his Uncle Fred and they stuck with him...a lot. I guess he feels like the name has expectations."

"I suppose his father couldn't have waited until a more sensible age to tell him the stories," she mused.

"Oh, it wasn't George!" Neville told her. "It was Harry and Ron."

Somehow, that made slightly more sense.

She went back to her office, back to the list, and back to her letters. And she hoped for the best.

And when she stood in the Great Hall on September the First, she scanned the crowd for Fred Weasley, and she spotted him as she saw the rest of the Weasley and Potter clan surrounding the closer end of the table by the first years. James was now in his final year, now the image of his father just without the glasses. He was closest to Fred, nudging his shoulder and pointing at some of the teachers in what would inevitably be a mock warning. She smiled to see them all sitting together in Gryffindor students, and it didn't seem that long ago that their parents were all doing the same.

Fred Weasley looked calm enough, but that could be the nerves of finally attending the school his elder cousins had talked about for years, the same school that his parents had so many adventures in, the school his uncle had died defending. It was always daunting on the first day, particularly on a night like tonight where the sky above was storming and angry. Tomorrow it would be beautiful though, it always was after a storm. Even the students who had grown up around magic were always amazed at ceiling of the Great Hall.

But there was something in the way that he was looking at the other students, particularly the ones passing around the latest Weasley gadgets. "That's my dad's shop!" he announced proudly, fighting to be heard among James's seventh year friends. "That's my dad's, he makes those all himself with his own spells. And one day, the shop will be mine."

The boys challenged him on it, but not in a threatening way. They dared him, jibed him. _Prove it_, they told him. _Prove that you're capable of being the heir to the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes throne._

So he did.

And on his first night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Fred Weasley received his first audience with Filch and his list of rules, added three new rules thanks to his dinner-time stunt. A letter had been sent to his parents, as the school rules dictated, and when she eventually retired for the evening quite a few of the Professors had a lot to say about one of their new students.

Perhaps, Minerva hoped, his younger sister would take after their mother.

Though, perhaps she could be wrong.


End file.
